by TRIXCY ANNE B. LOSERIAGA
Pluto had swung his rusty scythe,
as the children lay their promises
before the sleeping maiden.
Flowers embraced her,
as nature soothes her delicate soul.
The moon glows bright tonight,
illuminating her way towards the gate.
She knew she was no match
from the men cowering
in the deepest of night.
But the children’s cries
called out to her jolly heart,
to the abomination of sin.
The bell tolled for the fallen.
Pluto had sealed her path,
just like those before her grace.
Her beauty laid to waste,
as the murky river wept.
Her temple caressed the earth,
as the Great Mother greeted her back.
Her rosy skin
glistened among the mulish leaves
yet not once did it leave a mark.
The children wished to follow
but Janus had other plans.
He created a crux from his liver
and gave each child a tiny piece.
Days, weeks, months have passed,
yet the children never forgot,
the essence of the sacrificed lamb.
Her name was Abigail. F